


i want you (for a lifetime)

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Slash, Superhusbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't really know how it happened. One moment they're just sleeping together, and the next Tony finds himself completely, irreversibly in love with Steve Rogers — well, that's a lie, he's actually been in love with him for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i want you (for a lifetime)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece where I've tried to include most of the Avengers. I'm kind of impressed, but my attempt at multiple characters need work. Also, this is probably the best thing I've written in this fandom, so if you think it's good too, please drop a kudos! 
> 
> However, this piece is unbeta'd, so sorry for any mistakes!

It takes a year.

Three hundred and sixty-five days of — as much as he hates to admit — pining from afar, dazed stares that last longer than necessary and pathetic whines to Pepper until Tony gains what he wants. Well, sort of. He has wanted a night of long, heated passion, and that was what he’d gotten, and some more, with kisses that leaves his lips reddened and sore, and hand-shaped bruises on his hips that he has to resist the urge to show them off.

All it had taken was a party, loud music and a crowded room to fall into bed with Steve Rogers.

Shoved through the crowd by Pepper, he’d managed to cough out some words to Steve, which from there he’d known he had a problem because he usually rambles on until someone has to physically stop him, and they’d vacated outside for more privacy. From there, and with some subtle flirting, Steve tugged him away back to his room, pressing him up against the door and showing him the time of his life. And that’s saying something. Really. The best he’s ever had.

Tony wishes it is that easy, though; he knows he can continue getting screwed into the mattress, the large hands holding him down, and moan as those sly pair of lips nip up the length of his throat. Of course he can, he’s done it all the time. That is, until now, where the only person he sleeps with — the only person he _wants_ — is the Senior Quarterback. But he wonders how long this will go on for, how long it’ll take before Steve grows tired of just messing around and wants something serious, committed, and Tony isn’t opposed, but as if Steve will want him for a boyfriend, the guy who fails at relationships.

Easy, is what it would be to end it. To quit while he is ahead. Start afresh. But he can’t, he’s too greedy, too hungry and selfish to let Steve go, even if they remained friends. He needs that void in his chest filled, and Steve is the perfect fit.

* * *

‘So, this was great. We should do again sometime.’

An overused offer; he always says it, in the midst of recovery, still overheated and heaving in gasps. Sweat slicks his skin, and the room is stifling, so uncomfortably warm, that the smell of sex and sweat, his own, and of Steve’s, is strong, and the come on his stomach dries quicker than he would have liked, which means it’ll be harder to clean. He blames the stupid one liner on the fuzzy sensation in his mind.

He moves away — not like he and Steve were touching, anyway — and gathers up his clothes flung around the room, over the bed posts, on the floor, some even in the bathroom. He hears the shift of the mattress, but refuses to look behind him.

‘You can use the shower. If you’d like.’

Tony shakes his head. ‘I’m good.’

‘It’s no trouble —’

‘Rogers.’ He breathes hard through his nose, thankful that he doesn’t sound too strained. ‘It’s fine. We didn’t get that dirty last night, right?’

He doesn’t need to look to know a faint blush has blossomed along his cheeks, down past his collarbones. ‘Uh, yeah. Right.’

Yanking on his shirt and pants, he can feel the burning stare on the back of his head, causing a strange, itchy heat to prickle over his neck, but as he scratches, rubs over it, there’s no relief. A few more seconds pass, and another creak of the bed, but he doesn’t feel the familiar brush of lips against his neck, or hand around his waist, and when he turns, the bed is empty.

The rush of water drifts through. Of course; oh, Steve knows exactly how Tony is coming across, guarded, a wavering look that he couldn’t really hold back, and it’s why he’s disappeared into the bathroom, to spare himself the challenge of reaching out to him.

Tony hadn’t really expected him to.

He slips on his shoes, casting a final glance around the room, not really knowing why — except, he does know why, because if he walks out that door, there’s a chance he’ll walk on back through it, in a hour or a day, and he honestly doesn’t know how much more he can take. It’s ridiculous, this settlement, that in the beginning felt wonderful; it had been fun, a slice of the cake that he thought was all he needs, but now he’s eating too much, a nauseating, horrid churn in his stomach, but it’s so delicious and lovely that he keeps going back for more.

And he’s afraid that even if the plate is empty, and he’s too full, he’ll find a way to keep going, until he explodes.

* * *

‘You wanted this.’

Pepper hands him his coffee, and he tries not to snatch it too hard, inhaling its wonderful scent and the warmth it gives between his palms. ‘Yeah — I know. I was there when I made the decision.’

He’d searched for Pepper as soon as he left Steve’s room; where else could he go? It’s a Saturday morning, so every student is probably still in bed, and those who aren’t, are the walking dead, including Tony, hence the need for a caffeine boost. Pepper looks impeccable as usual, fresh-faced and hair tied up in a ponytail.

If he’d tried anyone else, he wouldn’t be here drinking his coffee. Bruce sleeps the same amount as Tony, but no one dare disrupt him, unless they want their throat wrung. Natasha and Clint, well, it is obvious what they’re up to in the mornings, and nights, actually pretty much every day, and as for Thor, he spends the weekends feasting on Pop Tarts and watches sappy romance films with Jane. They’re all aware of this fling with Steve, but neither of them can really console, listen, or cope with his rotten moods.

‘Well, you can’t act as if this wasn’t expected,’ Pepper says, giving him knowing look.

‘That’s the problem, Pep, I was expecting this.’

She regards him mutedly for a moment. ‘Has he said or done anything —’

‘Uh, yeah, he’s done a lot.’ A smile creeps on his face at the memory. ‘Last night, he did this thing with his legs, which I didn’t think was even possible for a human being —’

‘I meant out of the ordinary.’

‘That is out of the ordinary. Impossibly surreal but real. As I was saying —’

‘Something that implied it is more than just sex,’ Pepper says, rolling her eyes.

‘Oh.’

‘Well?’

‘No,’ he says immediately, a rush of breath, as he remembers the peppers of kisses along his shoulder blades, the whisper of soft words against his ear, and the imprint of fingers against his hip just as they came down from their releases, even through the heavy fog of his mind, he feels the stroke of Steve’s thumb over his bottom lip before he bends down to replace it with his lips. ‘ _No_. Nope. Definitely not.’

Pepper raises an eyebrow. ‘You can lie to others, but it won’t work on me.’

Slapping a hand to his chest, he gasps out, ‘You wound me. Lying? Me?’ He rolls his eyes. ‘There’s nothing to lie about. We have sex. We part. We have sex again. Nothing more, nothing less.’

‘Okay. Stick to that story, but I know the truth.’

‘You know everything. Like a wizard. Or witch.’

‘I know you deny any feelings for him, that you’re over being in love —’

‘Yep,’ he says, nodding. ‘All I needed was to get laid. I lusted after him, not love.’

‘So, you think this ‘lust’ will last? Your feelings won’t be unearthed again?’

‘The only way for feelings to be unearthed, is if they were buried in the first place, which I clarify, were not.’ He downs the rest of his coffee, but it doesn’t taste much good anymore, lukewarm and leaving a somewhat thick weight in his mouth. ‘There’s a difference between burying your feelings and letting them go.’

Pepper cocks her head to the side. ‘I don’t know this difference. Mind explaining?’

He holds back the scowl itching to show on his features; it’s obvious what she’s trying to do. She is practically a professional with manipulating tactics, more devious than Tony had thought. It is hard to not feel a slight sliver of fear down his spine when faced with Pepper sometimes, as he’s experienced the wrath of her, and knows not to rub her up the wrong way, but there are no signs of that just yet.

For her, she doesn’t need physicality or strength, all she needs is her voice. When she tells Tony to stop being a child, he’ll huff an indignant noise, but he’ll follow her orders — why? Because she’s right. Always is, always has, and always will.

‘Burying your feelings means it’s temporary; they’ll return sometime whether you like it or not.’

‘And letting them go?’

He shrugs. ‘They’re completely detached from you, no way of connecting again.’

‘You feel the second?’

‘Yes.’

‘There’s no way of these feelings returning, because you never really had them?’

‘Right.’

‘So, you don’t have to worry about the feelings ever being mutual?’

Tony sighs. ‘Exactly.’

‘Do you want that?’

‘No.’

She hasn’t caught him out, there’s no shock or gasp tore from his throat. He had seen it coming, and there’s no point in avoiding the question, or weaving his way out of it, as she’d have found out anyway, eased the answer out of him. She doesn’t really interrogate him much — no, this isn’t anything close to an interrogation. It’s her way of caring, the only way to get through to Tony.

And it’s Pepper. His friend. Ex-girlfriend. Aside from Rhodey, she knows him best. Knows how he likes his coffee, knows he’s useless when it comes to remembering his locker number and what textbooks to bring into class, knows he’s a mind-driven, restless machine who barely sleeps or eats and has an addiction to caffeine and rebellion, and knows that he is in pain, fooling himself; knows that although he’d comfortably come out as gay, he still holds the fear of failure with commitment, and knows what he feels for Steve isn’t a familiarity, is a sense of difference and novelty, and that he’s ridiculously, laughably in love with the guy.

Without her, Tony doesn’t know how he’d cope with this problem, wouldn’t even dust the surface of sanity without his friend there to keep him on his feet, to keep him steady.

‘No,’ he repeats, shrugging, but it isn’t casual, his shoulders tensed. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘You know what you want, Tony, and the only way you’re going to get it is if you try.’

* * *

He does take Pepper’s advice.

Sort of.

He _will_ take her advice, right after he’s cooled down from his and Steve’s recent round of sex, who of course has vacated to the shower, not saying a word.

Tony doesn’t blame him after their short, awkward departure last time, and wonders how Steve allowed him back into his bed, but he had, grabbing him by the collar and pushed his way inside — Tony had only gone invited him round to tell him how he feels, but he wasn’t going to turn down sex when offered — and fucked him right there on the floor, barely giving Tony a chance to stutter out a gasp as he prepared them both and pushed in.

It was fast, no kisses, no gentle touches, and Tony had been surprised. Sure, they got rough often, skin slapping against skin and harsh breaths heaved in, but this was different. A little worrying, actually, as once Steve came, Tony shortly following with a cry, and refilled his lungs with oxygen, he got up and wiped himself down, gave Tony a brief smile before he left. With a shudder running through him, a cold, hollowness gaping in his chest, he’d crawled up onto the bed, thrown a blanket over his waist, and waited. He isn’t against cuddling, but enjoyed his own space, but for Steve to not linger for even two minutes makes Tony feel off.

Sighing, he flops down onto the bed, and just as he thinks the cogs in his mind will smoke, the bathroom door opens. He wishes he hadn’t propped up on his elbows, just as Steve emerges with a towel around his waist, hair matted to his forehead and water droplets sliding down his bare chest.

Just as he thinks his arousal is dying down, it rises back up again, something clenching at the base of his spine.

‘Oh,’ Steve says, noticing a half-naked Tony is sitting on his bed, and he himself is half-naked also. ‘You’re still here.’

‘I could go if you want —’

‘It’s your room.’

 _Crap_. ‘Still.’

‘Uh, well, no, I actually want you do stay.’

_Thank God._

Steve bends down and picks up a shirt, Tony’s shirt, and hands it to him. ‘Here.’

‘What’s this for?’

‘To wear? I thought you’d be cold.’

Tony rolls his eyes, standing, not bothering to cover himself, as the blanket pools around his feet. ‘You could always warm me up. You might have an inhuman recovery time and can go four rounds, but I can try and match it.’

But as he steps forward, Steve drops his head, and it that’s little, insignificant sign — so insignificant, that it’s completely the opposite, crossing the line of importance, miles away from it. The heat floods from his body, sweat clamming up his palms. This isn’t a casual no, that he doesn’t feel like it, because he sees the hard swallow of Steve’s throat and his hands clenching at his sides.

‘What?’

‘I —’

“Don’t you want me to stay?’

‘I do, but —’ He sighs. ‘To talk.’

‘Oh, well, sure. I can talk. What d’you wanna talk about? Trouble in class? Football? Sex, which I’m totally not against, obviously.’

Steve swallows again. ‘Us.’

If he hadn’t thought this could go any worse, it does, in a split second flat. He feels humiliated, and that’s a first, completely naked usually hasn’t bothered him, but now he burns with shame. His knees feel weak, buckling beneath him, and he finds himself back on the bed, feeling smaller than ever as Steve stands over him.

He waits as Steve dresses, slowly, almost stalling from what he wants to say. Tony itches, feels the words heavy against his tongue, trying to burst past his lips, but his unnervingly patient, because maybe — a stupid part of him believes — that this is something he’s overreacting to. It’s fine. Steve is going to complain about Tony untidiness, how he stays up late at ungodly hours, or the amount of alcohol he drinks on the weekends.

‘Have I done something?’

Midway through tugging on his shirt, he stops, which causes Tony’s focus to falter. ‘No,’ Steve says. ‘No, it’s just —’

‘This is ending, isn’t it?’ The revelation is so clear it hurts, like a swift, hard kick to the gut, and he feels his knees shaking, close to collapsing, but he grabs onto the bed post. ‘You’re ending this.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

It hurts even more when Steve takes another step back. ‘Because it needs to.’

‘By whose say?’

‘Mine, Tony, this is all my decision —’

‘Sorry if I come off a little stunned, but ‘because it needs to’ is a bit vague.’

Steve runs a hand through his hair. ‘It doesn’t work. You and me. We’re incompatible, we’re a mess.’

‘I’d agree with the mess in that we create a lot of mess.’ Steve gives him an irritated look at the sexual innuendo, but he ignores it; this situation needs lightening. ‘We work well. How else would we have ended up in bed? The sex, it’s good, it’s great, so how can you say we’re incompatible when really we’re amazing at doing the deed.’

‘That’s just it. This is just sex. Right?’

‘Well —’

‘Wait. You don’t honestly believe we could’ve continued?

‘Why not?’ Tony says, shrugging. ‘No harm done.’ Lies.

Steve pauses, eyes searching his, and for that moment he wonders what he’s thinking about. ‘Maybe so, but how long would this have gone on for? Months? Years? It would’ve ended some day, so might as well quit while we’re ahead.’

‘Are you missing the point that we’re in college?’

‘It is painfully evident to me. By now, I don’t want to be fooling around, I want to concentrate on my studies, find someone who is willing to settle down.’ Tony went to open his mouth, but Steve cut over him. ‘And I don’t mean you’re incapable of that but—’

He shakes his head, thinning out his lips; the room filled with a silence, heavy and suffocating.

‘But what?’

When Steve looks at him again, it causes his chest to clench, hard. It’s a look he’s only seen few times, one that can never be unseen. A mix of pure agony and sadness, something that isn’t just an emotion, but physical reaction, crushing up his insides, and it doesn’t just affect Steve, but pulses out, dragging everyone else down with him.

‘I thought —’ He laughs, a strained, humourless sound. ‘I thought I had my chance, you know? If this was the only way, if this was all I’d get, then it’s fine. It’s great.’

‘Chance at what?’

Steve looks away, pulling on his jacket. He gives him a fleeting smile. It’s almost enough to destroy what Tony had left in him. ‘You shouldn’t have to ask.’

* * *

Natasha hits Tony over the head with her textbook. ‘идиот.’

‘Agreed,’ Pepper says.

‘Seconded,’ Clint pipes in.

‘Uh, excuse me, I resent that —’

‘Do you even know what she said?’ Bruce asks around a cryptic, knowing smile.

‘I’m gonna go with handsome.’ He turns to Natasha. ‘And how much does that textbook weigh? You could’ve cracked my skull, y’know, and then you’d be responsible for wasting one of America’s most brilliant minds.’

Pepper slaps his arm, lighter but still holds might. ‘You’ve wasted a good, potential relationship by not opening your mouth!’

‘Yeah, Stark,’ Clint says. ‘What the hell happened? You don’t even talk as much when you’re drunk than when you’re sober.’

He sighs, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. _Shouldn’t have woken up this morning._ But he should have, really, because he needs this. It’s better his friends knock some sense into him than himself; if it were him, it would entail refusing to sleep for seventy-two hours straight, downing a whole lot of scotch he’d smuggled in, and phoning up any of these guys, slurring out mixed up sentences and spewing out all the reasons he loves Steve.

‘He made it perfectly clear that he —’

‘—wants to be with you. Officially.’ Pepper finishes.

‘No. He said _had_ his chance. Past tense.’

Natasha rolls her eyes. ‘Past, present or future, why does it matter? He ended it because he thought it wouldn’t go any further than what you’d arranged, which means he wants more. Chances are he still feels that way.’

‘I beg to differ.’

‘It’s been a day,’ Bruce says. ‘Feelings don’t just disappear overnight.’

Clint snorts, addressing Tony. ‘Yeah, dude, you should know.’

‘I won’t hesitate to knock you out with Nat’s textbook, Barton.’

‘You can try, but you won’t succeed.’

Leaning forward, Tony’s fingers inch towards the book on the table. ‘Wanna bet?’

’Stop acting like children,’ Natasha cuts in, snatching the book away. ‘We can’t do anything for you, Stark. Either you say something, sort this out, or let it go —’

‘And stop moping —’

‘ _Shut up, Clint._ ’

‘What?’ He lets out a frustrated sigh. ‘C’mon, Nat, you agree that when he mopes he turns into a lovesick puppy? Gross.’

A collective murmur of agreement sweeps over everyone. He shakes his head, stirring his cold coffee, undrinkable now, but he needs a distraction to make it seem like he’s not bothered — he is, _completely_ bothered — but he can’t make a decision yet, whether or not to try and explain him to Steve, or do what Natasha suggests and move on.

It’s half and half. What he wants to do is dust, _stuff_ it under the rug and staple it to the floor, forget about it and get on with his life; it’s what he’s normally done in the past. Yet, of course, the other part of him screams no, and if he even tries to avoid it, he’ll be hassled, riddled with comments about how he should be a man, and if it were to be thrown back in his face, then so be it, that’s life. Like he’s heard many times, he’ll never know unless he tries.

Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, it’ll turn out the way he’s always dreamed of.

‘Oh, look it’s Thor,’ Clint says, waving him over. ‘Hey, Thor, what do you think about Tony and Steve’s who Romeo and Juliet story?’

Tony frowns. ‘It’s nothing like Romeo and Juilet —’

Clint dismisses him with a wave of his hand and hush. ‘This is for science —’

‘You don’t even like science.’

‘I do when it involves two idiots, it’s like studying monkeys —’

‘ _Enough_ ,’ Pepper says. ‘We’re getting off track.’

Thor sits down in-between Clint and Bruce, a furrow denting his brow. ‘I do not understand. I trust everything is well with you and Steven?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Tony scoffs. ‘Totally great. Actually, never been better.’

‘Stop bullshitting, Stark —’

‘I swear to God, Barton, one more word and I’ll shove that book so far down your throat Nat will have to retrieve it from your ass, though it’d be the first time a girl’s had to touch you.’

‘ _Please_ ,’ Clint says, snorting again. ‘I get plenty, unlike you, who just lost his daily bread.’

Tony groans. ‘That doesn’t even make any sense!’

‘And yet you know exactly what I mean.’

Shaking his head — and it appears most of the others are tired of their bickering, returning to the own conversations — so he gets up, not saying goodbye, because if he did they’d only drag him back down. His class is in five minutes, one he can actually tolerate. He skips it.

* * *

It’s one in the afternoon when he receives a call from Clint. He debates whether or not to answer, even dig the phone out from under his pillow, and decides he should or else he’ll have the dick knocking on his door.

Flipping his phone open, he snaps, ‘ _What?_ ’

‘Jeez, didn’t wake up in Steve’s bed, then?’

He pinches the bridge of his nose. If only he can reach through the phone and slap Clint, he would. ‘What do you want?’

‘I need help.’

‘I am not helping you out of the vents again. If you’re stuck, you’re gonna have to get someone else to butter yourself up, because I still have nightmares over last time —’

‘It’s not that,’ he says. ‘Besides, you enjoyed it; to see an oily, sweaty guy with a rocking body is your dying wish. You’re welcome.’

Tony snorts. ‘In your dreams, Barton.’

‘Trust me, real life does not compare to the dreams I have. This one time —’

‘I don’t need to know what happens in your weird, kinky dreams!’ That is an image he’s not going to be able to remove. ‘Tell me why the hell you’re calling — disrupting my beauty sleep, by the way — or I’m hanging up.’

‘Alright, alright. Relax. I called because I wanna discuss some ideas for new arrows.’

He’s already out of bed, shrugging on a shirt, (might as well, doesn’t have anything better to do until his late classes), the phone held between his ear and shoulder. ‘If it’s anything to do with triple explosives, you can forget about it.’

‘Yeah, whatever, it wasn’t my fault your malfunctioning prototypes blew up the physics lab.’

‘You were the one who asked for them!’

‘I _suggested_ the idea, you went as far as trying to create it. Seriously, dude, those things are dangerous.’

‘Says the one who practically orgasmed when I gave you the arrows in the first place.’

‘Who doesn’t love arrows?’ Clint asks, rhetorical, and Tony hears the background sound of other students, guessing that he’s in the hallways, probably on his way to his room. ‘Meet me at the physics lab?’

‘Give me ten,’ he says, snapping his phone shut.

At least now he’ll have a distraction, take his mind off Steve.

* * *

He arrives five minutes early.

More irritated than usual — he really should have bought some coffee — he taps his foot, checks his watch every minute, texts Clint to see where the hell he is, what his playing at, and if he doesn’t walk through that door in the next five minutes, he’s walking straight out of it.

It’s silent, deadly silent, too much that he wonders if he should have come. Quiet he can stand, with the students obnoxious voices travelling through the walls, the hum of the electric presentation board, and the thoughts in his head overworking, but even they are too quiet, probably burning out from the drain. He’s twitchy though, pacing the room, and in the silence, he can hear the tick of his watch, impossibly loud.

Just as he thinks Clint isn’t going to show, the door opens…

…and it’s not Clint. Not at all.

It’s Steve.

Big, beautiful, _wonderful_ Steve.

He isn’t _not_ happy to see him; he’s actually quite relieved. That familiar sensation swells in his chest, but it’s soon replaced by the hollowness, the gaping hole that eats away at his heart. He laughs, a harsh, aching sound that just feeds the _parasite_ that wears him down, weakens him.

‘Right,’ he says, nodding, the laughter now released in choked coughs. ‘I am going to beat Clint’s short, bony ass —’

‘They tricked us?’

And it’s said so innocently, genuinely, that it hurts even more. ‘Yeah.’

Steve sighs. ‘Pepper told me she needed some of my art projects for the college newspaper.’

‘In the physics lab?’

‘Uh, I did think that was a little odd.’

 _Yet you still came_. Steve couldn’t have really believed that? Well, Tony can’t complain; he believed Clint of all people. His eyes dart to the door, and back to Steve. God, he wants nothing but for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, as the chit chat ends and the reality of the situation sinks in.

He wants to run, and he can, if he just tells his feet to move forward, yanks the door open and bolts, he can pretend that this never happened. He can find Clint, do what he promised with the textbook, and beat his ass several more times — with another promise of no more arrows for him unless he bows down and brings him coffee — and then slip under his covers, never letting anyone in, and never leaving ever again.

But that’s insane, isn’t it?

To waste an opportunity like this. With this thick wave of nausea rushing through his stomach, hard to keep his breathing at an even, steady pace, and a clamminess on the back of his neck, it feels awful, but there’s the only one explanation for his bodily responses, all because of the guy that stands in front of him. And it’s not all bad. His heart beats faster, the blood pounding against his skull, and he resists the urge to reach out and gather Steve into his arms, kiss him, and just tell him how much he loves him, has since tenth grade. How stupid he feels for not saying anything before, let what they had end, and how he desperately misses it.

‘—you here?’

Tony blinks. ‘Huh?’

‘I said: why’re you here?’

‘Clint told me to come. Obviously that was a mistake.’

Steve flinches, and instantly Tony regrets ever opening his mouth. ‘It was?’

‘No — I mean, I didn’t — believing Clint was the mistake, not coming here.’ He sighs, digging his knuckles into his eyes. ‘Yeah, I’m not good at this. The awkward set-up, not working out.’

‘You think this is awkward?’

‘Well.’ He shrugs. ‘Duh. Don’t you?’

Leaning back on one of the counters, he nods, a little stiffly. ‘Not really. I’m glad, actually, that I’ve got to see you.’

‘Everyone is glad to see me. How could anyone resist?’ It comes out before he can haul the words back in, and he shakes his head, eyes closing briefly. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’ There’s a small smirk on his lips, and it lifts a tiny bit of tightness from his chest. ‘I’ve dealt with worse.’

‘Worse of me, or worse in general?’

‘What d’you think?’

Tony gapes. ‘I am a very easy person to deal with —’

‘I can list the reasons why you’re not —’

‘Pfft —’

‘You demand foot massages after an hour of class.’

‘They are tiring —’

The smirk widens. ‘Want to be carried around because you’re hungover.’

‘You didn’t mind.’

He takes a step forward, barely there, and it’s cautious. ‘The number of times you need to be woken up for class, and even when I do, you’re still late.’

‘It’s because I’m hungover.’

Another step, but then he stops, yet he already feels close, intimate. His face straightens, a touch of sadness in his gaze. ‘You take all the sheets. You hated to bottom because Tony Stark isn’t a sub. You won’t —’

He cuts himself off, a habit he has appeared to pick up from God knows who or where, but Tony doesn’t press him any further, swiftly — reluctantly changing the route of the topic. He knows he could’ve taken the chance to broach the subject of them, but he needs a better opening than just sex. It’s unlikely.

‘Right, well, that’s a _lie_.’

‘Which part?’ Steve says. ‘All of it?’

Crossing his arms, ‘Yeah.’

‘You’re right.’ Steve nods, but that smirk is back. ‘It usually takes half an hour of class.’

‘When have I ever —’

‘You threw your leg up onto my lap —’

‘My feet were aching —’

‘—during an announcement! The principal nearly kicked us out.’

Tony scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. ‘He was jealous. You and your magical hands.’

‘Thanks.’

He clears his throat. ‘Uh, you’re welcome.’

Steve bows his head, and there’s a light dusting of pink along his cheeks. ‘I’ve missed this.’

‘I’ve —’ A lump in his throat causes him to stop, but he swallows past it, dragging in a deep breath; the fear gnaws at the pit of his stomach, a cold, clawing, tightening sensation, and maybe that’s why it pushes him to say, ‘I’ve missed you.’

And it’s easy, instinctual, crossing the distance between them and taking Steve’s face into his hands, guiding him, and pressing his lips to his. It’s not a furious tear of passion, not even heat, but a gentler bliss that shows him he’s _here_ , with his hands carding through the soft, blond of hair, and clutching at his waist as if he can’t move any closer, can’t feel enough presence to reassure him that this is real. That it’s real and this isn’t a figment of insanity.

He’s never initiated a kiss before, and maybe that’s why it feels better than all the other they’ve shared — not that Steve was ever bad — but he realises, from the eruption of something, something wonderful, throughout his body, and the smile that creeps onto his face, is that he was an idiot before (just like Natasha said, he looked it up) and since the first time he’d met Steve, he’d had feelings for him. He knows know he should have told him sooner, saved the lectures from friends, the pain and confusion, but most of all, saved the years of waiting to be together. It doesn’t matter to him; the past is the past, and all Tony wants to focus on is now.

Pulling away, he rubs his thumb over the sliver of skin exposed underneath Steve’s t-shirt. ‘I just wanna say, what’s happened and everything, I… won’t do it again.’

‘Is that an apology?’

’…Sort of?’

Steve clicks his tongue. ‘It’s one of your best, I suppose.’

‘Does,’ he pauses, swallowing. ‘Does that mean —?’

‘If you want to —’

‘Hold on, are we on the same page?’

‘I don’t know, are we?’

Tony swallows again, sucking in a breath. ‘I want to make us, y’know, official.’

‘Oh, so marriage?’

‘What!’ He sputters. ‘I —’

Smiling, Steve kisses him, hard. ‘I’m kidding, but it’s nice to know where we stand on that.’

‘I’m not opposed to it.’

‘Tony, calm down, I know.’ A grin stretches his cheeks. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay, just, warn a guy next time, okay?’ He rubs his hands up and down Steve’s sides. ‘Of course I’d like to go down that road one day, especially with you — mostly what I think about, actually — but I need to master the boyfriend stage first.’

‘You think about us, in that way?’

‘Yes, but that’s not the point! Okay. So. Don’t joke about it yet.’

‘I’m not joking,’ Steve says, and the grin is gone, replaced by a sincere tone.

‘So, you’re just doing what?’

‘Playing.’ The corner of his mouth twitches. Not exactly a smile, but not too solemn either. ‘Doesn’t mean I’m not serious about that particular topic.’

It feels like his throat is closing up, but it isn’t bad; trust him to have a assault of emotions now. He nods, wetting his lips. ‘It’s good to know that you are.’

‘Besides, maybe I like seeing you get flustered.’

Oh. Oh. ‘There are other ways to do that—ones I’d very much prefer at this moment.’

Steve cups Tony’s face, pressing close, and it sends a shock of electricity up his spine. He leans forward, their lips nearly touching, and Steve sighs, the short gust of breath causing the hairs to stand up on his neck. But then he pulls back. ‘I’m kind of tired.’

‘Don’t do this to me, Steve.’

‘Exactly, I won’t be doing anything to you.’

Tony whines. ‘It’s been so long!’

‘A week,’ is his reply, so dry he wonders how it didn’t cut him on the way out. ‘It’s been a week.’

‘And that, honey, is a lifetime.’

It earns Tony a smile, and then a kiss, a little harder, insistent, than before, but it doesn’t lose the care he handles Tony with; a feathery brush to his cheek, or the way Steve sighs contentedly against his lips, or just the sense of love and acceptance of taking Tony as he is, as not a perfect man, not even great, but a man who will try and be good.

Be good to his friends, his classmates, the country — hell, even the world if he has the opportunity — but most of all, to Steve, the one who occupies his mind every hour, who never once took him for granted or judged him, and who, he hopes, feels the same way. He doesn’t have to love him back yet, just enough to tell him stories when he needs something to relax him, to listen to his ramblings about utter crap when he needs to be heard, and someone to hold onto him when he needs to be held.

Tony pulls away, smiling, ‘Though, I guess, that’s not a bad thing.’

‘How’d you figure that?’

‘Think of it this way: there’s a whole lifetime ahead of us.’ He runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip, across the stretch of his smile, matching his own. ‘And I want to spend that lifetime with you.’


End file.
